Third person POV
When Elias finally forced his eyes open, the ceiling of the infirmary blurred into focus. The smell of mountain laurel and burning sage was gone, replaced by a scent so clean and piercing it made his lungs ache.
"Alpha?"
Knight's voice was a sandpaper rasp. He was leaning over Elias, his face gaunt, his eyes bloodshot from a night spent in a state of high alert.
Elias tried to sit up, but a bolt of electricity shot from the base of his skull down his spine, pinning him to the table.
He hissed, his hand flying to the back of his neck. His fingers brushed skin that felt raised, textured, and feverishly hot.
"Don't touch it," Sitara's voice came from the shadows. She stepped forward, her face a mask of exhausted clinical detachment. "The integration is still settling."
"The integration of what, Sitara?" Elias's voice was deeper than usual, vibrating with a resonance that made the glass vials on the nearby shelves rattle.
